


Oracle Nights

by alizarin_nyc



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-09
Updated: 2005-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:38:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alizarin_nyc/pseuds/alizarin_nyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After "Five by Five" Angel returns to pick up the pieces of Wes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oracle Nights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [entrenous88 (EntreNous)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/gifts).



> Set after "Five by Five" goes somewhat AU for "Sanctuary." Reference to future events

Angel returned to pick up the pieces of Wes.

His face and his speech were fragmented. Like he'd lost his mind along with his blood. Angel didn't like seeing him like this, but he realized that it was a necessary step in the evolution of Wes, and in the breaking and rebuilding of Faith.

Angel could see the future, except for all his blind spots.

Angel left Wes on his own already far too long while he comforted Faith and eventually saw her safely tucked in a squad car. He watched the pale red lights recede and returned to his regular life, the one with Cordy at her desk and Wes hovering nearby. He figured no one but the four of them needed to know anything more about what Faith had done to Wesley.

When he returned to the office he had a strange phone message from Wesley. It sounded like he was drugged, or being throttled. When Angel arrived at Wes' apartment, there was no answer at the door and so he broke it open with a kick. God, he loved to do that.

He was surprised by the amount of blood around Wesley's easy chair, but not by the sight of Wes slumped near the chair, unconscious, or very nearly so. There had been more damage done than Wesley had let on. Angel knew this from instinct, knew that Wes would push himself to appear less harmed, knew that this would likely be the result.

Angel stood near him, taking a deep breath of the scent of blood and scarred skin. He wanted to run his tongue over Wesley's sliced-up face, but these were the sorts of urges he never let surface completely. Not now. Faith had done a cruelly sure job and Angel resisted the temptation to pick up where she had left off. That temptation was a tiny thing, a thing that crawled around in the back of his brain and he was big enough to squash it. Instead, he patted Wes' face and Wes came to, gibbering and jabbering and letting Angel's sure hands guide him up and away from the spare apartment.

He should have insisted on a longer stay in the hospital for Wesley. He had seemed fine just after the incident with his pain pills and bandages but now, from the look of him, his wounds had opened up and some of his limbs were strained and immobile. And he wasn't even remotely coherent.

Wes' head would not remain upright, so Angel propped him up against his shoulder as he drove home. Wes would have to stay with him for a few days, just to be sure. Angel winced at the thought of Wesley Wyndam-Pryce sitting up in his bed balancing a tea cup, and sweetly asking Angel for milk, but maybe he could get Cordy to handle it. She would want to know that Faith was imprisoned and no longer a threat to the denizens of Greater Los Angeles.

He rang up Cordy on the cell phone. At first he thought he'd screwed up again and dialed the wrong number. She was frantic, her words spilling all over themselves and out into Angel's ear where he tried to herd them into some sense. She'd had a vision. Not a painful, premonitory one this time, but more of a message from the Powers. Her visions were taking a vacation, apparently. They'd be back, but for a few days things were going to be a bit screwy. It wasn't exactly clear.

"Isn't this kind of, well, good news for you, Cordy?"

"No headaches, sure," her voice continued, "But the visions are still going to be out there, floating around and other people may end up as receptacles."

"I'm just not following you." Angel swerved to miss a car pulling out in front of him and Wesley's head shifted off his shoulder. "Cordy, this is a very bad time." He pulled Wes back up and jostled the cell further under his chin.

"Well sorry to bother you with these life or death matters, but someone may be getting our visions while they're on cruise control and that could be dangerous."

"Why again are the visions going on walkabout?" Angel was really trying to concentrate.

"My vision seemed to indicate something about Mercury Centigrade. I don't know what that is exactly but it sounds like maybe the temperature is going to rise?"

"Let's discuss it later, okay? If you hear of anything strange, call me right away but right now I have to deal with something else."

Cordy rang off in a huff.

The blood continued to invade Angel's senses. He was anxious to get Wesley inside and into a tub. He half carried, half dragged him inside. Once the tub was filled with warm water, however, he had another dilemma. Was he going to undress the guy and bathe him? He shook Wes until he got eye contact.

"Wes. Can you wash yourself?"

"I'll try," Wesley stuttered, and pawed Angel away as he leaned down over the side of the tub. Seated on the edge, he began to strip what was left of his shirt away.

"I'll just be right outside the door, okay?" Angel said. He backed away slowly, and shut the door, leaving it open just a crack. He stood there soundlessly. He could hear Wesley's sharp intake of breath each time he attempted to remove another piece of blood-soaked shirt. He was still bleeding from his cuts a day later. _A number_ , Angel thought. Faith did a number on him. He spared a thought for her as he envisioned her going through processing. Her mug shot. Fingerprinting. Holding cell.

A noise - a _bang_ \- from inside the bathroom. Angel swept open the door and sure enough, Wesley was lying on his side on the floor. His shirt was off, his jeans still on.

"Okay, Wes, look. I am going to take your jeans off. I don't want to bother Cordy this late at night."

Wes' eyes begged him not to bother Cordy.

"Okay, so we have to do this ourselves. I can't dress your wounds until we get you cleaned off. So, jeans off. Just lift your hips and help me as much as you can, okay?"

The pain in his eyes said all Angel needed to know. Wesley was this close to passing out and then he'd be no help at all. Wesley lifted his hips and looked at Angel. God, he was so vulnerable. Angel knew vulnerable. No one was more vulnerable when they were bleeding, naked and begging for their life. He hadn't known that look from Wesley and it was totally unexpected. He felt his soul tug free from its moorings and drift toward the shore. "Okay," he said softly. "I'll take care of you, don't worry."

Wesley seemed to accept this and Angel pulled his jeans away from his body as quickly as possible. Once he was just in his boxers, Angel put his arms under him and lifted him into the tub. Wesley hissed loudly as the water burned his wounds. His eyes watered and he pressed his lips together in a grim firm line. Angel admired that he didn't cry out.

"You tell me, Wes," Angel said, "I wash, or you wash."

"Angel, please, if you could." Again, the look of vulnerability, of pleading, the _please don't kill me_ , that Angel knew so well. He wanted to help, that was what he did now. He stopped the bleeding and the healed the hurt. He was The Champion.

"Yes, okay. Hold still." It was just business. Champion business. He took the washcloth he'd laid out and set the hydrogen peroxide nearby. "Nothing to it, really, Wes. Just keep your eyes on me and don't pass out."

He got a grin for that. "Yeah," Wes said, "There's no crying in baseball."

Angel shrugged, "Whatever you say." He began washing the wounds, taking careful notes at Faith's technique. He had to live a long life and she was a vampire slayer. She might come back to haunt him one day and it was always good to know your opponents. And your friends. It would be good to know Faith's weak points, and he intended to use Wes' recap of the night as research. That would come later.

For now, he patiently cleaned the wounds she had made; wounds that would not heal any time soon. Wes made crooning sounds, his eyes leaking at the corners, but he didn't scream. "Sorry I have no pain killers handy," Angel offered. "I've got whiskey however."

This perked Wesley up and he greedily drank down the tumbler Angel gave him. Out of the bath, he was able to strip off his boxers while Angel turned away and towel himself dry. Angel applied the bandages with more care than he thought he was capable of. Wes turned to him gratefully.

"I don't know how to thank you."

"No thanks necessary, you know that."

"Still, I -- " Wes paused, seeming to have more to say. "What Faith did." It was a statement not a precursor. Angel understood.

"She crossed a line. She ripped me open." Wesley's voice faltered.

"Let's talk about it tomorrow. You sleep in my bed, I'll take the couch. Faith has been arrested, you've nothing to fear."

"She's not what I fear."

Wes turned away, his shoulders shaking slightly, but still held stiffly back. The man must have had a kite inserted under his skin to maintain posture like that. Angel thought about that for a moment; what it would be like to unfurl Wesley, to let him catch the wind and fly him high above the city.

What Angel really wanted was to feel distaste and pity for the man, but he found he couldn't. He resisted the sudden urge to embrace Wesley, to grab him roughly, take his face in his hands. But that would be crossing the line.

He settled for gripping Wesley's shoulder. Man to man.

"Wes, get some sleep. Morning will make it all right again." Angel spoke the human platitudes even though he was of the opinion that morning was the last thing that could ever make anything right. Night was right. But Wesley was a man and he had to offer something. "You'll be okay."

He slept and dreamt intermittently of Wesley's bare limbs in the tub, Faith with her glinting eyes and sharp tools and sheets of rain that turned to fire and burned them all.

Some time in the night he heard the sound of a baby crying. He woke to find the strange keening sounds were coming from Wesley. Angel jumped up, splashed whiskey into a glass and slipped into the bedroom. Wesley jerked awake, his bandages askew, and his face red with pain. Angel knew the look of pain and the power of it to cripple someone when it extended its visit.

"Wes, drink this." Wesley turned his head like a child. Angel thrust the glass under his nose.

"Wes, I have nothing else for the pain. If it's that bad, I can bust into a drug store or a hospital." Angel felt a sudden sense of frustration. "Tell me what to do."

"It's my back," Wesley whispered, acquiescing and taking the drink. "My wrists and legs. They're cramped from being tied up for so long." He took a tentative sip. "And from lying unconscious in my apartment I suppose." He winced from the whiskey burn and then affected a motion of rubbing his hand along his thigh. Angel could see the movement causing his open wounds to suppurate.

"I dreamt I was lying at the bottom of the ocean," Wesley said. "It was strange. It was very beautiful, but I couldn't be with anyone that I cared about."

"Just a dream," Angel said. "Lie still. Very still. Stop moving around." Angel reapplied the bandages and then began to massage Wes' shoulders. He knew he wasn't good at care taking, he certainly wasn't known for his massage technique, but he aimed to try. He had to try. He took the pillow from Wes' head so he could lie flat and then tried to focus on Wes' muscles.

"That's not bad," Wes admitted, his eyes shut tight.

Angel moved to his arms, rubbing each one in turn, massaging the wrists and fingers carefully. Wesley didn't stir. "You will tell me if I hurt you?" Angel asked.

"Yes."

"Would you like to turn over and I'll..." _Oh shit_. Angel couldn't believe he was about to utter these particular words. "Rub your back?"

"Yes," Wesley said again. Angel did most of the turning, but soon he had Wesley lying on his stomach and Angel again started from the shoulders and worked his way down to the small of the back. Wes didn't make a sound. Angel could feel the pads of his fingers as they met the human flesh and became warm. He was leaving his prints on Wesley and there was something soothing and even erotic about that. He usually marked others with a bite. Not now though. Now he marked no one and no one marked him. But he was pressing his fingerprints into Wesley, all over Wesley, and Wesley acquiesced. If Angel had a beating heart, it would be thumping now. As it was, he was feeling something he never thought he would feel about Wesley, the goofy, strange and sometimes surprising man that had wandered haphazardly into Angel Investigations. He wanted to press his lips to Wesley's back, run his tongue along his spine, make whorl-shaped finger markings with his hands in other places.

"Wesley?" He whispered.

Wesley was asleep.

All the next morning Angel worked in the living room while Wesley slept. He filled Cordelia in vaguely, telling her that Wes had endured some injuries falling in his apartment while he was recuperating post-Faith. She wanted to see him, insisted, in fact, but Angel held firm and gave her some field work to do that may or may not have been related to her leaking visions and that kept her away all day. Angel tapped on the calculator and shook his head over the figures until he heard Wesley stir.

"Any better today, Wes?"

"Thanks, yes," Wesley croaked. He groaned as he moved, but he did look better. "A number," he said.

"What?"

"A number. Faith did a number on me."

Angel smiled. "How about some soup? Or toast or something?"

"You're sure you're up to that sort of thing? Where's Cordelia?"

"I can handle soup and toast. Cordy's doing fieldwork. I didn't want to fill her in completely until we talked about it." Angel moved in to the room and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed.

"Yes," Wesley frowned. "I have to say my initial reaction is that Cordy -- that no one know about this." He paused, gesturing at himself lying in Angel's bed. "Or see me like this."

"Then you'll do me a favor and stay here for a few days until you've completely convinced me that you're okay moving around on your own?" Angel kept his face neutral, but he felt a swimming sensation in the pit of his stomach. He was worried about Wesley, wasn't he? Was that what was going on? Since when?

"I'm sure I'll be fine on my own," Wesley said. Angel left it alone for the moment, but after Wesley had eaten something, he fell fast asleep until nightfall and then Angel casually informed him when he woke up that he couldn't move him because Angel had fieldwork of his own to do. Cordy had a date and was placated by Angel's reassurances that Wesley just needed some down time.

Angel returned sometime around midnight.

It had been fruitless fieldwork; no one knew anything about wandering visions. He went to the fridge for a long drink of blood straight from the pack. When he turned around again, he caught sight of something near the stairs. Wesley was lying unconscious, bleeding from the head, his hand gripping the first step as if he were trying to drag himself out of the apartment.

Angel was angry. What was wrong with this guy that he couldn't just accept help when it was needed?

He scooped Wesley up in his arms and swung around. He smelled something. God, Wesley had pissed himself, his bandages were bloody and his wounds were seeping.

"Time for the hospital, jackass," Angel said aloud.

Wesley's eyes fluttered open. "N-no hospitals."

"Oh, there you are. Just taking a little nap were you? Going out for a beer and thought you'd grab a little shut eye on your way?"

"Angel, I had a dream." Wesley's head lolled back over Angel's arm as Angel stopped halfway across the room and just glared at the man in his arms. "There was a woman, a sort of woman, but she was more of a snake. She bit me. Her teeth went all the way through. Here." He pointed to his stomach. "All the way through. Out my back. She went after you. I had to warn you." Wesley's voice sounded strange and hollow; like he was impersonating himself.

"A hallucination, Wes, that's all it was. You have to stay in bed, you have to do what I tell you to do. There is no snake. She's locked away tight."

"Can't lock up a snake, Angel," Wesley said, struggling to keep his head upright.

Angel took him into the bathroom. Again, it was the stripping dilemma. To strip or not to strip. That is the question. Angel chose to strip him. Wes was babbling incoherently about snakes and Angel was in no mood for him to fall all over himself again. He pulled up the t-shirt he had lent Wesley and threw it in the basket, now full of blood-covered clothing. Wes' arms folded in on themselves and he hung his head.

Angel put a hand on the short brown hair and gently pushed his head up. "Let me help you, Wes, okay?" Angel said, looking into his eyes. "No big deal, just another bath for you and you'll feel much better."

Wesley nodded. Angel pulled the string of the pajama bottoms he'd lent Wes, and pulled them off while Wesley stood, tottering. The soiled pants joined the rest of the laundry and Angel batted the lid over it. Something he'd deal with later. The bruises on Wesley were unbelievable and Angel just shook his head, swept Wesley up again like he was a child, and lowered him into the warm water. He kept the water running until it covered Wesley and then he dumped in some sort of shower gel. He started cleaning the cuts with peroxide. Wes was sitting slumped over and staring into space, hissing when the peroxide stung him.

"Hey." Angel said, touching his chin for attention. Wesley looked up suddenly, realization dawning.

"Oh god, Angel, this is embarrassing. I am truly sorry." His hands fluttered to his chest, before he realized that his chest was the least of his worries.

"I've seen it all before, Wes. Don't worry. If we're not going to take you back to the hospital, we've got to be more diligent about getting you taken care of here. I'll do my best. If I can't, we'll get Cordy. Just work on, you know, relaxing."

"Relaxing," Wes said, looking Angel in the eyes, and then looking down at himself. Angel refused to take the hint and grabbed a washcloth, more bandages and antiseptic. Wes rolled his eyes and laid his head back against the edge of the tub. "I'd resist this, but I am so very weak."

"That's a good boy," Angel said with a smirk.

"Again, we aren't mentioning this to Cordelia?"

"I don't see how you have anything to be ashamed of, but I'll trust your judgment," Angel was really smiling now. God, it was like he was flirting. How weird was that?

Wes even let Angel dry him off, which was even weirder, but kind of nice, and Angel didn't do anything unseemly. He didn't want to break Wesley's trust and make him nervous. He got him settled in bed and then forced several glasses of water on him. He put a book by the bed in case Wes wanted to read. Then he made as if to say goodnight.

"Angel?"

"Yeah, Wes? Wrong book?"

"No, no, it's fine. It's perfect. I was just wondering. Well, I was thinking... that is, wondering..."

Angel felt relieved at this sign of the usual Wesley. Thank god, he'd be fine. "Anything Wesley," Angel found himself saying with undue warmth.

"If it isn't any trouble, and you've gone to so much trouble already. But last night, you, well you massaged my back, and I was wondering if you could, just for a few minutes, it really helped..."

Angel moved to the bed and laid his hands on Wes' shoulders. "Not a problem."

It was nearly an hour later that Angel finally stopped rubbing Wesley. This time he had eased the cramps from his legs as well and Wes had sighed with gratitude. He eased his hands away and Wesley turned his head so he faced Angel. His eyes opened.

"It's not a comfortable couch for sleeping. You should just sleep here."

And then his eyes closed again and he drifted off. Angel waited several minutes and when Wesley didn't move, he moved closer, put his arm across Wes' back and laid his head on the pillow. He suddenly felt sleepy himself. And maybe just a little elated in a way he shouldn't be. This was just comfort.

Just comfort.

***

When he woke several hours later, he was holding Wes in his arms. He was keenly aware of the sharp difference in the body of the man and the body of the woman he had most recently held. Rebecca had been bony, birdlike; her rouged lips upturned to his face, her clear eyes focused on him with want. What she had wanted, however... When he thought about that, he thought about how he should have snapped her birdlike neck in two. The danger she put his friends in was nearly unforgivable. She was lucky he was a better monster than the one inside him that wanted to go back where she lived and cause some real havoc. He'd held Rebecca for comfort, ostensibly, but there had been more than a hint of something else.

Holding Wesley was different. He was larger, he was muscular, yet softer than Rebecca, and how was that possible? Angel realized that he wanted Wesley. He didn't want the soft fluttery embrace and feminine beauty that Rebecca offered. He wanted to grip Wesley and make him want the same things. Lying there, he had to shift his body to hide his desire. How the hell would Wesley react? He couldn't afford to damage him any more, or scare him away. At the very least, he needed Wes for research and to help Cordy in the office. There was no going back to a two-man operation. Well, one vampire, one woman. Wes would never replace Doyle, but Doyle had left a substantial hole in the business and in Angel's life, and they needed to be filled. He needed Wesley.

And if Angel pressed against him now, and he reacted with shock or disgust? Well, that wasn't something Angel could work with. He released Wesley and moved away. It was time to get up anyway and get some work done. But he couldn't go prowling around the streets; what if Wesley woke up and needed him?

Angel moved to the couch in the other room but he didn't sleep. He sat and stared into the darkness. Dreams batted restlessly around inside of his skull. He didn't remember ever dreaming as vividly as he had been lately. Now, it was almost as if his mind wanted to dream even though he was awake.

Angel sat until day broke outside and he heard the distant sounds of real people moving in the real world.

When Wesley woke up and realized Angel was no longer there, he got up, moving in the dark, feeling his way around to the other room. He could see a little light filtering down from upstairs and Angel's large, brooding form in the shadows.

"Angel?" There was no answer and Wes thought for a moment that he'd gone back a few days in time and it was Angelus sitting there, released by Rebecca's drug, waiting for him.

Fast forward and Wes was again in Faith's chair, feeling all her pent-up violence screaming through him, down his back and everything in his head was breaking.

And the dream... the dream was of the snake and the snake had unnaturally blue eyes, and took away all that was innocent in the garden.

When Angel stood up and the shadows released his familiar face, Wes was so filled with relief, he stepped up to Angel and placed his hands on either side of his face. "It's you," he said. "It's just you."

Angel caught Wes just as his knees gave out. "Just me, Wes." Wesley turned up his face, his lips whispering Angel's name and Angel took a chance and let his lips brush across Wesley's. Wesley straightened then and pulled back. Angel started to apologize, but it was dark and he couldn't see Wesley's face, so he didn't have any cues. Then he felt something else take over and he didn't want to apologize at all.

A thought occurred to him. "Are you asleep, Wes?"

"Yes, yes, I'm asleep," Wesley replied, as if from far away. Then his face cleared and Angel could see his features sharpen in the dark and take on form. "And I have been for some time," he said. "I think I'm ready to wake up now."

He backed away, but Angel came after him, predatory. He could smell the other man, smell the dried blood and the dream-sweat.

"I'm dreaming too," Angel said. He didn't know where this was going, only that he'd dreamt while still awake, and in that dream it was raining fire. Now he felt hot and strung out. He knew he wasn't himself, but he sensed that Wesley wasn't either. Weren't these moments always better when you weren't in your right mind?

And it was early morning, but so dark. Dark, the way he liked it best.

Angel slid his hand around Wesley's neck and pulled him in close, exhaling across his cheek, inhaling at his neck, then letting his tongue run up around the edge of his ear. Wesley gasped and jerked away, then changed like a tide and pushed back against him and pressed his lips against Angel's. Angel opened his mouth and tasted Wesley; felt his head reel with the unexpected pleasure. He shoved Wesley back into the bedroom and Wesley drew him in at the same time. He pushed him onto the bed, breaking the kiss for a moment, then slid next to him and pressed his mouth again to Wesley's neck.

"Oh god, Angel, oh _god_." Wesley sounded anguished and surprised but Angel couldn't have stopped if Wesley had begged him to. He thrust his tongue into Wesley's mouth and Wesley's hands began to skim his back. "God, Angel, I am dreaming I am dreaming."

And Angel stopped then because he suddenly needed to know. "Are you with me Wes?"

And Wesley looked up at him, his eyes unfathomable in the darkness. "Turn on the light."

Angel did so and turned back.

Wes was breathing hard. The gash on his face was red and seemed to beat blood and Angel felt his hunger increase. He leaned forward before he could stop himself and licked the open wound, gently. Wes didn't move, just kept panting. Angel grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. Wes still didn't move. Angel licked Wes' other wounds across his chest, neck, and finally Wes grabbed his head. "Stop."

"I don't want to stop, Wesley." Angel lifted his head and placed his thumb on Wesley's upper lip, right in the dip between his nose and lips and stroked down with his thumb. "I'm not going to stop."

"There are things..." Wesley choked back something, his head still so as not to disturb the placement of Angel's thumb. "Things Faith did."

"I've seen, Wesley." And it was true, Angel had seen. He hadn't said anything, but he knew there were sharp cuts along Wesley's thighs where Faith had cut him and a strange bruise on his dick, almost like a bite mark. Angel didn't want to think that Faith had done something like that, but he knew vengeance and knew that it was a bottomless pit of depravity. Faith could fall into it just as anyone could. And Angel knew there was very little light at the bottom of that pit.

"If you want to talk about it, Wes," Angel offered, moving his thumb around Wesley's unshaven jaw, even though he had no plans for talking.

"No, Angel, I don't want to talk about it. I want you to know, so you know I'm not necessarily in my right mind at the moment. I'm weak."

"Am I taking advantage of you, do you mean?"

"I'm just saying it's possible."

"Tell me what to do, then."

Wesley sighed. "Kiss me again." And he gave his permission and Angel shuddered with what felt like a derivative of joy. It was better now to take what was offered.

Angel brought his thumb back around to Wesley's lips, stroking down and across. "Just be sure, Wesley." Before he could answer, Angel pushed his thumb into Wesley's mouth, hooked it behind his lower teeth and dragged his mouth open. He ran his tongue along the curve of Wesley's mouth, pulling down on his lower lip and spreading his hands and fingers to grip Wes' face. Wesley protested slightly and then began to give in, kissing Angel back.

Angel broke off the kiss and stood, quickly stripping off his clothes. Wes looked as if he were about to protest but Angel's hands were on him, again, firmly, and he pushed him back against the bed. Angel's thumbs found purchase in the waistband of the borrowed boxers and Wesley was wriggling under him, getting hard, but his eyes were still full of a strange fear.

"Turn off the light," Wesley said.

Angel reached over to click off the light and while he was there he retrieved some lube from the nightstand drawer. He was very eager and he slicked himself and Wesley in the dark quickly and without thinking.

"Angel?"

"It will be okay, Wes, I won't hurt you, I promise."

"Perhaps. But there are some things that tonight I just won't do." The Watcher voice spoke, so out of place in the bedroom of a vampire.

But Angel understood. "Shh," he told Wesley. "There's nothing you have to do." And he realized that Wesley was putting a very fragile trust squarely in his hands. As much as he wanted to flip Wes on all fours and fuck him senseless, the stable part of his brain told him to proceed another way.

He reached for Wesley's dick and slid his palm up and down its length, until Wes moaned and bucked his hips. When he felt Wesley's hips begin to rise rhythmically, Angel paused, reached for his own dick and then slid it in between Wesley's legs. Wesley's breath hitched and Angel murmured reassurances. It was slick and hot between his thighs and Angel maneuvered his dick vertically until it was flat up against Wesley's balls. He pushed down and let the head of his dick slide in between Wesley's ass and Wesley exhaled and drew his legs together, making a tighter space.

"See? No problem," Angel whispered. Angel flexed his stomach muscles and concentrated on rubbing and teasing Wesley's dick. Wesley moaned and thrust upward, sending Angel sliding back down between his legs. Angel fit his mouth to Wesley's and moved faster, focusing on Wesley, pinning his dick between them until Wesley gasped and came, arching his back and squeezing Angel roughly. Wesley continued to buck and thrust and Angel rolled his hips, sliding his dick back and forth under Wesley's balls, rubbing the head down and against his hole. They developed a rhythm and Wesley was crying out, scissoring his legs together to make more friction for Angel.

Angel wanted it to last longer, but Wes threaded his fingers through Angel's hair, brought Angel's head down and bit him hard on the lower lip. Angel came suddenly and helplessly, pulling back from the bite and burying his head in the other man's shoulder.

They lay panting for a few minutes until Wesley indicated he needed to breathe and Angel's weight was a hindrance. Angel rolled off and pulled the other man close to him.

"Angel, I'd like to ask you something." Wes spoke into the darkness.

"Yes, anything," Angel said, his hand caressing Wesley's chest.

"Why didn't you kill Faith?" Wesley's voice was hard and unforgiving in the dark and Angel moved away, reaching for the light on the other side of the bed. He clicked it and turned.

"What the hell."

Wesley regarded him with a level gaze. "Why didn't you kill Faith like she asked you to?"

"Fuck, Wes. We just -- we just." _We just made love_ , was what Angel would have said, but now he realized that that was not what had just happened. "Fuck you, Wes. I don't kill for sport. Not now. I don't kill slayers. It's not just."

"And what happened to me was just?" Wesley spat out the words.

What had just happened? Angel felt his head spin with the illogic of this moment. He knew they'd fight about Faith again, but christ! At this moment?

"Do you know, Angel, that this is the first time I've had an orgasm since Faith?"

"What?" Angel sputtered.

"Yes. It seems I'm everyone's fuck toy these days. As part of her humiliation of me, she straddled me, got me hard, undid my fly and sucked me. Right as I came, she bit down."

Angel just stared, speechless. Wesley was equating that with what they had just done? "That is so unfair, Wesley, to even think that I would do anything to hurt you. That I would do anything without your permission. God, I thought you wanted me as much as I wanted you! Are you playing sick sex games to get Faith out of your system?"

Wesley looked defiant. "You took in my torturer and gave her sanctuary. Payback is a bitch."

"You don't know the half of it," Angel breathed out. "But you will." He stalked out to the living room, first locking the elevator and pocketing the key, and then going upstairs and yanking out the doorknob of the door that led to the office. He could kick down that door any day, but Wesley couldn't. And Wesley wouldn't be able to open the sewer hatchway until he had healed and was stronger.

Now they were locked in, together.

He'd nurse that stupid ungrateful asshole back to health and make him pay for what he did tonight.

Angel fell asleep faster than he thought possible on the couch. He, for one, had had no recent orgasms, so he took advantage of the fact that his entire body felt relaxed. Except that he was really, incredibly angry.

He dreamed. First there was Buffy, who was chatting to him amiably and eating a cantaloupe. Then there was Spike, rather, William, on all fours, tied to a bedpost, begging for Angelus to fuck him. Spike turned into Xander and Xander was talking dirty to him, but he was wearing a tuxedo for some reason, and tied up with pink ribbons. Cordelia came in and found them together and she was extremely angry. She turned and he saw her in profile, and she was pregnant. As she yelled at him for corrupting Xander, her belly swelled huge and strange, but she seemed not to notice and Angel tried to get her attention, but couldn't. Finally, the thing burst out of her and it was large and purple and thick, with tentacles, and the tentacles moved closer to Angel and swept him up in their grip. They bent him and ripped him with tiny teeth, and he saw that Cordy was dead, Xander was dead, Spike was dead and the thing with the tentacles was swallowing the world, but taking his friends one at a time.

He woke, gasping and disturbed, flailing for space on the couch.

He immediately went into the bedroom and stripped the sheets off Wesley's body. Wesley stirred slightly and Angel lifted his legs and removed the boxers Wesley had put back on. He kissed down the length of him and tongued his dick to life. Wesley groaned, waking up and getting hard, and Angel continued to suck and kiss and knead his hands into Wesley's skin. He expected to be rejected, but Wesley thrust upward instead, then shouted and knotted his fingers into the bed sheets when he came.

Angel returned to the couch, despite the fact that Wes was speaking to him, questioning his sudden actions, trying to pretend he was angry about it. Angel ignored him and silenced him with a look as he slipped out of the room.

In the morning, Wesley tried to make an indignant exit and realized he was trapped. By the time he came out of the bathroom again, Angel had fixed toast and coffee and finally Wesley sat down, weary and weak, and began to eat. He pushed the crumbs around his plate with his crust and licked his fingers. Angel couldn't help but look at him. He stood at the counter, drinking blood from a mug, and quirked his eyebrows at his captive. He was oh-so-curious as to what Wesley would do next.

Wesley stood, finally, still wobbling on his feet. He took off his t-shirt, another loaner, obviously, and dropped it to the floor. He moved over to where Angel was standing and with all the strength he had to spare, pushed Angel up against the refrigerator.

"Hey, whoa, what're you doing?" Angel had not expected Wesley to make any kind of physical move. That was no way to win this game. But Wesley had other ideas in mind and he gripped Angel's crotch and began to rub. He worked Angel's fly open and pushed Angel's hands away when he tried to resist. But Angel really didn't want to resist, of course. He wanted Wesley, and he wanted to take him right here on his kitchen table. He was mad with desire and the look in Wesley's eyes said the same.

Wesley dropped carefully to his knees and freed Angel's dick. "Oh god, Wes. What is this? What _are_ you doing?" But Wesley wasn't speaking, he was swallowing. And for someone who quite possibly hadn't done this before, he was doing a very good job. He was kissing Angel's dick, he was stroking all the right places, mouthing him, gripping his ass and pulling him in. Angel was not one for the quick ending, but he found himself arching his back and banging his head against the freezer. He was so close. "So close, Wes," he gasped. "Stop or I'll..." But Wesley didn't stop, and Angel's head went back again, banged hard on the freezer door and he arched again and came. Wesley's eyes opened wide, another clue that he was new to this particular game, and he jumped to the sink and spat.

"Now, we're even," he said, clinging to the sink for dear life. "Let me leave."

Angel affected nonchalance as he buttoned his fly. "You don't go 'til I say you go." He swallowed the last of his blood from the mug and flung it into the sink. "And I say _you don't go_."

Wesley looked grim, but he limped back to the bedroom and shut the door.

Angel strode over to the door. He knocked. "You know, Wes, it doesn't have to be like this."

"Oh really, Angel," Wesley's voice came weakly through the door. "What, you like me? You're the only one around here that doesn't want to prey on me? That doesn't want tit-for-tat? I have a hard time believing that of you."

"Wes, I know you think you can't trust anyone, but you said you trusted me. I would never hurt you, how many times do I have to say it?"

"Many."

"Let's talk," Angel said, thinking that he hadn't heard himself say that in a very long time. He waited a few minutes and then finally turned to walk away when he heard the door open.

"I'm not ready to talk."

"When you are, we will. Until then, you stay, you get well. We'll see how things go after that." Angel said. Wesley nodded once, agreeing.

Angel moved to his desk and sat down, determined to get some casework done. Cordy would be proud. If she didn't come down here looking to see what was going on first.

The day passed slowly and Wesley came out in the evening to let Angel feed him some dinner. Again Angel stood by the refrigerator, drinking blood and musing over his patient. He was probably making the man feel like a prize pet, and he shouldn't do that.

"I like how you keep looking at me," Wesley said unexpectedly.

"You don't feel uncomfortable?"

"To be honest, no one's ever looked at me like that and for this long. But I won't get used to it."

"Why are you so bitter, Wesley?" Angel set down his mug and moved over behind Wesley's chair. "You are a very good looking man. You're brilliant. You should be used to people looking at you."

"I'm an annoying prick," Wesley answered dryly. "I'm an uptight asshole. I dress funny, I fall down, I wear nerdy glasses. I am a failed watcher."

"Part of your charm," Angel said with a smile. He was now close enough to touch Wesley's hair. He put his hand out. "May I touch you?"

"Angel, I'm not going to be your little pet project. Why are you treating me that way?"

"I can't seem to do anything right with you." Angel sighed and dropped his hand.

"At the moment I don't think very highly of myself, it's true. Faith said some things that hit home," Wesley said. He looked away, then down at his clasped hands. "I'm afraid they're all true. Let's face it, she emasculated me in more ways than one."

"Wesley, you are a man, to me, you're not what Faith said, you're..." Angel was struggling for words. "God, if only I was a good communicator."

Wesley laughed. "For all the good it's done _me_. I can't string two words together when it's on the line. In fact, when it's on the line, I'm not much good to anyone." Wesley had a dark look on his face. Angel saw his eyes flash and had an eerie sense of déjà vu. Something in that unshaven face troubled him in a familiar way, though he had never seen Wesley look so ominous before.

Angel moved around and sat down next to Wesley at the table. "I just know that I care about you. I want to help, if you'll let me."

"I'm not good at the sex," Wesley said, switching to open frankness. "I have some issues."

"I do too," Angel said, deadpan.

"But I could use another massage." Now Wes was half-smiling and Angel felt a wave of relief. The déjà vu passed and slipped away, forgotten.

"I'm glad we had this little chat," Angel said, smiling and reaching across to entwine his fingers with Wesley's. Wesley didn't flinch or pull away. "May I attempt to improve my technique right now?"

They moved into the bedroom and Angel immediately stripped Wesley of all his clothing. "Hey," Wesley protested.

"Simply for massage purposes," Angel said innocently.

"As long as you don't forget..."

"You're not my sex toy, not my rehabilitation project, not my captive slave."

"Unless we're in a fantasy role-play," Wesley cracked and then immediately said, "Oh my god I cannot believe I just said that."

"Must be the head wound."

"Must be."

"I'm just rendering the care not covered by your health benefits working for me."

"There are health benefits?" Wesley affected renewed interest.

"Yes, smartass. You're getting them right now."

Wesley stretched out face down on the bed and Angel took a moment to admire him. He wore those ridiculously oversized suits that made him look gangly, but he was thin and beautiful underneath. His long fingers stretched out across the pillow.

"Is there any chance you are attracted to me, too. At all?" Angel said, and fidgeted. He felt like the kid he'd practically been when he was courting Buffy.

Wesley turned his head so Angel could see a sliver of blue eye. "I'll answer that when I can trust the answer."

"I'll accept that." And Angel set to massaging.

They fell asleep in the early evening, limbs entwined.

***

Wesley dreamt that he was running. He was running from some unknown evil, a faceless creature with wings that flew above him. He knew that he had to save someone he loved but he didn't know who it was. The creature commanded a vast army that marched through LA, torching the office, torching Angel Investigations and his father stood before him with a look of disappointment on his face, spooning cantaloupe into his mouth. His father spoke around a mouthful of cantaloupe: "The Beast is Angel. Don't you see that, you idiot?" And when he turned around, he saw that the winged creature had fangs.

Angel dreamt that he was running after Wesley and that for some reason, Wesley wanted to get away from him. Angel was opening his mouth, gasping like a fish on land, but no words would come to convince Wesley that there was no reason to run, there was nothing to fear. Wesley was naked and running through a forest. He tripped over a black tree branch and fell. When Angel caught up to him he saw Wesley, dead, his upturned face covered in black mud, his back arched over the branch. His body sank into the mud and Angel could not get it back.

They woke at the same time, gasping and shouting. Angel had slipped into his vampire features and Wesley was wide-eyed and naked, twisted up in the sheets. Wesley stumbled out of the bed and ran for the door and Angel caught him and spun him around. Wesley used the momentum to deliver an openhanded blow to Angel's head, startling him, and then darted out to the weaponry wall. He hefted an ax and swung blindly. Angel was too fast and ducked, and the ax flew out of Wesley's hands into the brick wall, showering plaster everywhere. Angel caught him and instead of biting into him, kissed him hard on the mouth, scraping his lips with his fangs. Wesley's hands gripped Angel's hair and they were pressing against each other, moving, tripping, catching, biting, falling, rolling. Angel spun Wes onto his stomach and now Wes was struggling, yelling, fighting.

Angel's face shifted back and he turned Wesley around again, pulling him tight to his chest, kissing him fiercely. "Never hurt you," he gasped.

"I want you to, Angel, I need you," Wesley was gasping too. Angel jumped up at these words and darted back into the bedroom. Wesley was just getting to his knees, feeling the sharp plaster bite into them, when Angel returned and then his hands were all over Wesley, slick and warm.

Angel sank into the couch and pulled Wesley up with him. "A dream, I had a dream," Wesley was muttering incoherently.

"I know," Angel replied, kissing Wesley's neck, licking him from collarbone to ear. And he felt that he needed to protect Wesley, he needed to remember every inch of him. He could never forget this.

And Wesley knew that Angel was trustworthy, that Angel loved him, needed him, would never put something else ahead of Wesley's well being. Wesley was hard and aching and he wanted Angel. "You asked me," he panted, "earlier."

"What?" Angel's brain was befuddled with the licking and the kissing.

"If I thought about you in the same way," Wesley said, moving his head to look Angel in the eyes. "Yes, Angel. Absolutely. And I want you, now please."

Angel could not have looked prettier at that moment as his eyes lit up. Wesley sighed with relief as he saw what he wanted to see in Angel's eyes. Affection, dedication. He wanted it all. He leaned in and kissed Angel, biting him on the lip as before and Angel pulled him in more fiercely. He ground his hips against Wesley, letting his dick slide up and down on Wesley's hip. Wesley turned and they rocked against each other for a moment. Then Wesley stopped and eased himself over, spreading himself out under Angel. Angel didn't hesitate, but ran his slick hand up and into Wesley, massaging his hole, clamping his jaw down on the back of Wesley's neck. Wesley groaned and bucked, and Angel slid a finger inside him. "God, Wes, you are..." Angel stopped. He was not one now for dirty talk and the things he wanted to say might have ruined the moment. Wesley reached his arm back and grabbed the back of Angel's head, pulling him down so that Angel's mouth was again on his neck, his shoulder, his spine.

Angel removed his hand from between them and slowly pushed himself into Wesley. Wesley groaned so loudly Angel thought he was coming then and there. "Easy, Wes." Angel sank down until their bodies were pressed completely together. He felt Wes shudder and then he began to move, shallow thrusts, slowly, and with as much patience as he could handle. He eased Wesley up off the couch, enough for his hand to slide down to his dick and he gripped it and set up a rhythm. Each thrust made both of them grunt and soon Wesley was moaning and coming all over Angel's hand. A few final, harder thrusts and Angel lost sight of everything for a moment, the world spinning, his fangs lengthening and retracting and he collapsed on top of Wesley.

"The patient is healed," Wesley said after a while.

"I'm sure a few more days wouldn't hurt," Angel replied.

"Cordy will worry."

"I can tell her exactly what's going on."

"I'm not sure that's good office politics."

"Uh, Wes?"

"Yes."

"What is going on with the dreams, do you think?"

"I don't know but I am certain we need to talk about it."

"We're not good at talking remember?" Angel rose up from the couch and pulled Wesley toward the bedroom. "At least let's, um, get off the sticky couch."

Once in the bedroom they arranged themselves neatly in the sheets, suddenly awkward with each other.

"Here," Angel said, rolling Wesley over and spooning up against him. Again, they slept, again they dreamed.

The next day dawned and both of them were so exhausted from the dreams that they sat at the kitchen table silently for at least 20 minutes before speaking.

"I think that we've got some version of Cordelia's visions," Wesley said finally.

"If this is what they look like, I don't see how she makes any sense of them," Angel replied.

"I know they're painful for her, but I don't feel pain so much as terrified and…" Wesley trailed off, looking meaningfully at Angel.

"Rabidly horny," Angel suggested.

"Like an animal reaction, almost."

"Almost."

The conversation was dwindling and the meaningful looks were increasing. Angel felt tired and worried, but he couldn't deny that he was getting hard, just looking at Wesley across the kitchen table. He tried to focus on the vision issue, the surrealistic dreams, the problem of Cordy, but his mind kept going back to the way Wesley felt underneath him, the way his fingers looked as he played with his toast, the burning blue of his eyes.

"Angel?"

And Angel reached for Wesley across the table just as Wesley reached for him. He swept the dishes off and heard them shatter on the floor in some remote corner of the room. Wesley's hands were on his back, skimming the surface, and they were kissing, hard and voluptuous, tongues wide and slow.

Angel could not get his clothes off fast enough. He left Wesley undressing and went into the bedroom. Wesley made as if to follow him but he ordered him to stay put. When Angel returned, Wesley was standing, unsure, but naked and erect, and Angel pulled him close. He gripped Wesley's ass and lifted him up and onto the kitchen table. Wesley was murmuring in low tones and his hands gripped the edge of the table as Angel's kisses forced him back. Angel covered his hands in lube and began to stroke Wesley, one hand in front, one in back. Wesley began to groan and kissed Angel harder. Angel let his fingers go where they wanted to and Wesley suddenly broke off the kiss, gasping.

"Wait, wait, I don't want to come yet."

"No, I don't want you to," Angel said, easing up on Wesley's dick.

He began to stroke himself and Wesley batted his hands away and took over, both hands on Angel's dick. Angel went back to kissing him and let his tongue explore the inside of his mouth, then moved down to his neck. Angel let Wesley stroke him until he felt close to coming and then stilled his hands and guided them around to his back. Angel pulled Wesley up against his chest and with his hands on his ass, lifted him off the table. Wesley wrapped his legs around Angel and it was so good, Angel felt like crying out. He lifted Wesley up and onto his dick, hearing him exhale loudly.

"Easy Wes," Angel said, as he'd said before. It seemed to calm him, relax him. "I've got you." He did have Wesley, was holding him up with his strength, and Wesley let Angel take over, putting his hands back on the table and grabbing the edges. Angel thrust up and inside, letting Wesley's ass just barely rest on the table. _God_ , he was going to fuck Wesley on the kitchen table, and hadn't he been fantasizing about _just_ this? He gazed down at Wesley, admiring his long, white body, loving the way his own pale body was pressed up and into him. He held himself inside Wesley without moving until Wesley met his eyes.

"Angel, please, _please_."

"Please, what?"

Angel knew what he wanted, could see Wesley begging him with his eyes, and it unleashed something in him. He began to thrust, hard, banging Wesley into the table and making it creak. Wesley cried out, each time, and finally came, without any stimulation, his head thrown back, fingers clenched around the table. Angel kept going. He knew he might be hurting Wesley. He couldn't stop, it was too good. His vision began to swim with the tentacled creature of his dreams and he imagined he could hear a baby crying again in the distance. He could hear Wesley crying out too, and also clenching around him and he felt his orgasm building. He pushed Wesley down flat on the table and pulled his hips out further, leaving Wesley flat and struggling while he continued to thrust. Finally he came and Wesley arched his back up over the table, and then they were both completely still.

Once they'd disengaged themselves, Wesley went into the bathroom and was gone for some time. Angel tried to rouse himself to concern, but found he was having trouble. He sat on the couch, feeling sated. Finally Wesley returned and Angel was relieved of guilt by his confident walk and the fact that he was still naked. They sat together, naked on the couch, not talking, just gazing into space, until the mood struck again and Angel knelt between Wesley's legs and spent an hour giving him a blowjob.

The rest of the day passed in a similar fashion. They barely spoke. They cleaned up after sex and waited until the next wave hit. Angel bandaged and re-bandaged Wesley. He fucked him up against the elevator, Wesley's arms stretched up and grasping the metal cage. Neither of them dared to take a nap, but the strange images kept floating around in Angel's mind. He sensed the same was happening to Wesley.

When Angel closed his eyes, he could see streaks of fiery rain and a pitch-black sky.

Sometime after midnight they fell asleep and slept soundly, naked in the bed.

The next day Cordelia was granted entrance. Angel fixed the doorknob and she came down the stairs and gave a peremptory sniff. Whether or not she knew what she sniffed was hard to tell. Angel paraded Wesley out for her to inspect and she said he was looking much better. "Color in your cheeks!" She enthused. Angel and Wes just looked at each other. "May I take him out for some shopping? He's looking a bit shabby," she continued, scanning his Angel-wear with disdain.

"He's still weak, Cordy," Angel said. "He'll be headed to his own place soon and we'd rather he was ready for work as well before he worries about high fashion."

"To each his own," Cordy breezed. "As long as my guys are taking care of each other, and I get some time _not_ to have to clean up the messes you two make..." She stared pointedly at the sink where dishes were stacked up next to empty blood packs.

She continued, "So I was watching Oprah, and she was talking about how right now the planets are misaligned, and it's _mercury retrograde_."

Angel gave her a blank look.

"Why the visions didn't get to me these past few days? Hello? Hero of the people? Are you in there?" She made knocking gestures in the direction of Angel's skull.

"Mercury retrograde is causing the visions to go haywire." Angel furrowed his brow and thought about this.

Cordy tossed a long dark lock of hair over her shoulder and pressed her lined lips together. "I realized that maybe the visions got misdirected, you know like radio signals, and I was wondering, if well, if maybe they wandered over to the people closest to me, which would be you guys."

"Would these visions take the same form that they take with you?" Wes inquired nonchalantly.

"I don't know, but I don't think so. There was some weird stuff in that last vision, sort of like saying that the wandering visions wouldn't be immediate, more like the future or something. I don't know. You're supposed to be the smart guy."

"Indeed." Wesley tried to look more intelligent and less lustful.

She cocked one hip and looked at them. "You guys solidifying your friendship or something down here? You've spent an awful lot of time together lately."

"So the wandering visions, could be of the future," Angel prompted.

"Could be," Wesley mused. "But let's not jump to conclusions. Perhaps there are other side effects as well." Wes gave an Angel a look. "Or maybe it's just something that happens when the brain is stimulated by these visions."

"Let's _not_ jump to conclusions," Angel said sharply.

"What are you talking about?" Cordy interrupted. "Have you had the visions or not? Mercury retrograde is apparently a real bitch. Affects communications, you know. Between people, phones, internet, all kinds of weird things going on. Oprah says... oh, oh, oh, OW!" Cordy put a hand to her head and her eyes rolled back and Angel moved swiftly to catch her. "Visions are back, yes they are! Here we go, I see a woman, in a club, a nightclub, she's drinking a drink, and yes, it's drugged! Vamps are waiting outside; you guys have to find her first. One of the clubs on Sunset." Angel eased Cordy onto his couch, flinching as he noticed the pillows in disarray and recalled the day before.

"Wes, you able?" Angel turned to him.

"If you'll watch my back, I ought to be okay." Wesley took a deep breath. "Let's not waste any time."

Angel pulled open the hatch leading to the sewers, "I've got too much time before the sun sets, but there may be time if this isn't happening until the nightclubs kick into gear. Wes?"

Wesley followed him down, and Angel felt a pang of remorse. He knew Wesley was now stepping outside of the boundary of his apartment and he knew that once he let Wesley go and allowed him to step outside of what he now though of as their sacred space, things would change.

He couldn't think about the dreams, about the potential future he and Wesley might have been privy to, it was all too confusing and maybe they'd sort it out later. But knowing what he had seen in those dreams, he felt sure he would not want to revisit it with Wesley or anyone else. They couldn't mean very much, could they? Wes would not die, he'd be sure of it. Cordy birthing a purple octopus? Nonsense. Better left where they were. In his head, on the chopping block of memories, ready to be cut out to make room for more memories. It was the way of the world. The way of the mind.

Wesley's mind was already putting the past with Faith behind him; he was on to the next adventure. His face was healing, his cuts, his burns, the bite mark. Even the fingerprints Angel had left on him were fading, had already faded, might even now not mean what they meant last night. It was the way of the body.

They dropped down into the sewer together and made off at a moderate pace with Cordelia's directions.

Things would go back to the way they were, Angel knew. Affections would again fracture and spread out, always eventually mathematically perfect. There would be deaths and births and resurrections and redemptions and an apocalypse. That Angel knew now. But he'd stay loyal. To Wesley, to his team and his mission.

He'd stay loyal. The dreams didn't tell him that, he just knew.

***end***


End file.
